Not It!

I feel bad that every morning on our way to take Max to the bus, Cal says "Hel-lo, Kitty!" to a dead cat just over the fence on our neighbor's property. I tell Cal that the cat has died and gone to heaven, but he continues to assure me that it is just sleeping. I am pretty sure it was pitched there after making contact with a set of car tires, but since my spoken Italian limits me to pleasantries and restaurants, I am not sure how to translate "Gross dead cat in your field" to the friendly old folks next door. I think Brad and I are going to have to throw a little "Rock, Paper, Scissors" for that one.

I Should Have Guessed

Cal has a flair for the dramatic and some very strong opinions of how things ought to play out. I wasn't surprised then the other day when he asked me to pretend with him, handed me a blanket (which he tied around my waist) and told me I was Joseph. "Oh. Ok. Well, then, who does that make you?" I asked. He gave me that "Duh, Mom" look and said, "God." Silly me.

Christmas in Germany

We had high hopes for our holiday in our favorite corner of the world. Garmisch is a charming little town nestled in the Alps, and we make frequent pilgrimages there for the charm and the quiet. A person can really catch their breath in a place so beautiful and full of crisp mountain air. With all of the travel options within arms reach, we have been loyal to this particular spot. However, our city, she turned a cold, cold hand to us. Day two dawned with me unable to remove myself from the bathroom floor. One brot too many was my first thought, but 22 rounds and three days later, I am now pretty sure German sausages were not to blame. The boys watched a persistent cold rain fall out on the patio erasing the snow and their dreams of sledding and frolicking, so when we could no longer take the cabin fever, and I was finally able to upright myself, we cut our losses and headed home early. After throwing our bags into the back of the car, we headed back to Italy in search of reprieve from our vacation. But before leaving town, insult was added to injury when we skidded right into the back of some poor, unsuspecting, albeit gracious, German. Fortunately, his car was fine, ours now needs a new bumper. Sigh. There were moments, though, we do wish to remember. They all happened in the first day, but here they are. In retrospect, I'm thinking the Kriskindlmarkt in downtown Munich was almost worth it. Almost.

Dora No More

Yesterday morning was a cartoon morning. I had things to do and the boys had been doing too many things and needed a break. Fortunately for Cal, one of his favorite shows, Dora, promptly came on. I heard singular cheers in the other room, and then noticed that Max slowly migrated into the kitchen. I was singing along with the theme song and got to the chorus (which I'm particularly good at) "Da-da-da-da-da Dora!" Without pause, Max chimed in, "Na-na-na-na-na No Dora!" And that is the end of his interest in all things girly.